Ivan Ung(loved)
by Sunlit Garden
Summary: Shortly after the cake scene in Ivan's ending of the sim date Saccharine, he brings Branwen to his special white room in the cake shop. A quick glimpse into the events that followed up through the epilogue. [Saccharine: A Misleading Sim Date] Branwen/Ivan
1. Engagement Cake

Branwen stared at the table in front of her. They were in that shop. The horrible sounds of someone sobbing distracted her. Slowly she registered that they weren't her own.

"There, there," Ivan said, dropping smoothly into his seat. "I've brought you a slice of your engagement cake."

She blinked, not fully processing the reddish-brown treat in front of her. The muddy color reminded her of blood.

"It should still be fresh from yesterday," Ivan continued calmly. When she sensed him waiting, she managed to raise her eyes up to meet his.

"No appetite?" he asked, head tilted. She still couldn't find the words she wanted to say. "Shame," he shrugged, taking a very deliberately tiny piece for himself. As she watched him chew and swallow, humming to himself happily, she felt a prickling in her skin. For a moment she wondered if he'd poisoned it. The cake. What an odd sense of macabre, poisoning an engagement cake. That way he wouldn't have to deal with the scandal of his future bride housing a wanted criminal or dirty his hands by killing her himself.

She tentatively used a spoon to pick up a piece for herself. It smelled strongly of chocolate and cherries but felt like dirt going down her guilt-ridden throat. Ivan's eyes gleamed with pleasure as he watched her.

"Tasty, my sweet?"

She licked her lips to clean off the remnants of crumbs. Her voice cracked, so soft she was barely audible. "I don't know yet."

"Well I hope you find it easier to swallow as you take another bite. I've worked very hard on this. I've been waiting…for the right combination. You have yet to formally accept my proposal, but since you have not protested I take that as a certain complacency to be queen? And seeing as you just tried the cake—" he grinned, gesturing towards the spoon still clenched in her hand. "That signals you are willing at least to try."

Her eyes widened and narrowed as she tried to focus on his meaning. "Try…?"

His eyes flitted down to his lap where his half-eaten piece of cake lay. "To be mine. You said you liked me, after all."

"Ivan…" Branwen felt her throat close up, horror overtaking her. She hoped it was poison.

"It wasn't a guarantee that you would, seeing as I'm a Prince. It's a very delicate situation. Our engagement was so rudely interrupted by that man—"

"Dominicus," Branwen managed, tears welling up in her eyes.

Ivan smiled kindly, brushing a gloved hand along her cheek. She gasped at the contact, horrified that the dark form would emerge upon it. "There's no need to cry for him. He was drinking himself half to death in an attempt to join his sister and now he has. It's ended happily for him. And it will go on happily for us." Ivan gazed tenderly at her, making Branwen want to squirm. It took all of her self-control not to run. She'd probably try to stab him if she had anything other than a spoon. And yet…it wasn't his fault. She should have been executed.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, eyes closing as hot tears fell down her cheeks.

She felt him stiffen, almost removing his hand before the tears could touch him. Instead she felt something familiar—his handkerchief?—dabbed against her.

"He was a friend," she said quietly.

Ivan tenderly tilted her chin upwards until she opened her eyes to look at him. His eyes were flaring, the pink giving way to an almost red glow behind them.

"He will rot," he said quietly. "You will not. You…are perfect." She shook her head slightly, then winced as he gripped her chin harder. "Sacrifices had to be made, Branwen. But you will never be one of them. Do you understand?"

She blinked, processing. He didn't want her dead or punished…his words came back to her. "Nothing you do will make me love you less." With his fingers on her chin, she realized he was never letting go.


	2. The Drowned Mermaid

She shuffled into The Drowned Mermaid, hesitating at the blood-speckled door. Was it the blood pact or Dominicus who'd been the cause of the spatter? As she went in, Branwen halfheartedly felt like maybe Ellyn and Oswin would have been a good match. She made a pact for money…and she was sure the heartbroken Oswin received payment to keep whatever secrets Ivan kept in the room in the cake shop. Her fingers hesitated on the large suitcase…the one that had brought her a backache from lugging her injured mentor across the countryside. She took a steadied breath before opening it, half-expecting his headless corpse to be sitting in it. When he wasn't, she felt strangely uncomforted. She hadn't yet discovered where the body was. Part of her kept waiting for him to roll out from the bed covers. He was all she'd known. He wasn't kind, but—

She realized the warmth on her face was tears again. She wiped them with the back of her hand and began going through her things. She didn't have much. Life as an outlaw meant traveling light. There were a few wrinkled recipes, a guidebook, and some carefully wrapped cake. Two had been given to her by Ivan. The blueberry smear was sticking to the tin she kept it in. There was no one here to share it with anymore. She'd been hoping to share it with Isador when he came back around. But he never did. He never liked cakes that much anyways. He said they were too sweet.

"I'll change your mind one day," she'd teased. He'd shook his head and turned away, impassive as always.

Her heart ached. She didn't know if she could ever eat and enjoy food again. She halfheartedly righted the other cake in the tin, the one with little…droplets on top. Her fingers came back powder blue. Tentatively, she licked her finger. Chalky. Medicine. This was a medicinal cake? With a growing lump in her throat, she realized this is what she should have been making Isador all this time. If she had focused on getting him well instead of courting the prince to send him away…maybe he wouldn't have…

She closed her eyes again and tried to steady her breathing. It didn't help. Her entire purpose…

Branwen mechanically collected all of the pills atop the cake in one hand. Her throat was dry, but she still wanted to try. Ivan—that thing—could not bring back her will to live. Before she could even get to her feet she heard a commotion outside. Eyes wide, she could've sworn she saw a hint of black smoke curl under the door before Ivan appeared before her.

"Branwen, I told you to collect your things. What's taking so long?" he said smoothly, eyes fixed on her irritated face.

"You could've knocked," she said quietly, her throat tight, her fist curled around the pills.

His eyes narrowed momentarily. "I apologize, as a Prince, usually I have all doors open to me." He gestured to the box of cakes on the floor. "Those are probably no good by now. I thought you said you liked it?"

"I did…I just…" Branwen bit her lip, unaware of how she should continue. "I wanted to savor them."

"Interesting. You should wash your hands, Branwen."

She tensed, realizing that in her fervor for hiding the pills she had crushed them. Her sweat bonded the chalky substance to her hand, congealed it in others. It felt like powdery sludge now.

"I'll wait," Ivan said kindly, folding his gloved hands.


	3. Ungloved

"Don't worry dear, I'm sure the Prince loves you and won't do anything…terribly harmful. Just be prepared that your marital duty might be uncomfortable the first time. It gets better. It always gets better," the maid reassured her before closing the door and leaving the new bride alone in the honeymoon suite.

Branwen smiled almost uncontrollably. "It gets better," she repeated, giggling. "It gets better. It gets better. It gets BETTER." Her eyes leaked tears without sadness as she continued giggling.

About ten minutes later she heard a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," she managed from her perch in front of the mirror that had been bolted to the wall.

The Prince practically glided towards her. "Branwen."

"Ivan," she said, her twitching smile betraying her nervous energy.

"I hope you weren't waiting too long for me. I've been waiting quite a long time for you, my love." His gloved finger gently tilted her chin upwards, towards him.

She tilted her head slightly. "Are you going to keep the gloves on? Or shall I sanitize myself now?"

He smirked, tracing the veins in her neck with his gloved hand. "I don't think we'll have a problem with that, Branwen. You're a very special girl. I doubt you could ever have that kind of—sickness." His fingers rested on her collar bone where his eyes lingered for a moment. "Are you ready for your rights?"

Branwen pushed his hand aside and stood up. She gazed levelly into his pink eyes. "As ready as I'll ever be."

He smirked and began slowly removing his gloves. When his human hand appeared beneath it Branwen visibly relaxed. Smiling to himself, he removed his cape and outer jacket.

"Let me help you," Ivan purred, awkward, but determined to seduce the woman of his dreams.

She flinched at his touch. His eyes flickered with hurt.

"Cold," she said blatantly. "Your hands…they're cold."

Ivan blinked. "This isn't something I've ever dealt with before." He looked at his hands, unsure what to do with them.

"Here," she tried, bravely taking his hand and cupping it over her mouth. She breathed onto it, prickling his skin with warm puffs of air. He watched with utter fasciation. After a few minutes she coyly raised her eyes to his. "What do you really want?" she asked softly, straightforward. He always liked that.

"I already have your devotion," he said. "What more could I want?"

"My love," she replied, not sure whether to emphasize the endearment or the possession of it.

Ivan suddenly covered his mouth with a free hand. She blinked, unsure of what he was doing. After a moment he leaned forward and pressed his now-warm mouth against hers. She closed her eyes in surprise. He'd been so cold and wet before…

He almost felt…

Human.

A/N: Does anybody want a smutty version of this? If so let me know. If it's totally unnecessary I will continue on another scene at a later date.


End file.
